


Kitchen Nightmares Season 6 Episode 14 "Prince Charming's" Parts 1 & 2

by fukujoshi (charmed7293)



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Chefs, Alternate Universe - Reality Show, Alternate Universe - Restaurant, Arrogant Owner Chad, Bad Cooking, But also, Chefs Victor and Yuuri, Cooking, Kitchen Nightmares AU, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Restaurants, Screenplay/Script Format, Server Phichit, Some Parts In
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-03
Updated: 2019-03-10
Packaged: 2019-10-21 14:58:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 15,761
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17644991
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/charmed7293/pseuds/fukujoshi
Summary: "Next week onKitchen Nightmares: Chef Nikiforov travels to a suburb of Detroit, Michigan to take on one of his toughest challenges yet. The owner is arrogant...”[Cut to a shot of said owner bragging about his sports accomplishment with customers.]"...under-qualified..."[Cut to the owner arguing with Chef Nikiforov.]Owner: I don’t think it matters that I’m the head chef even if I didn’t go to school for it!"...and overconfident."[Cut to a shot of the owner speaking to the camera.]Owner: My cooking is the best in the world!"With staff who seem to care more than he does..."[Cut to a young man speaking to the camera.]Server: We want to make careers in this business and Prince Charming’s isn’t something you want on your résumé."...can Chef Nikiforov convince this difficult owner to listen."[Cut to a shot of Chef Nikiforov giving the owner a stern talking-to.]Chef Nikiforov: You need to get your head out of your ***."This season finale will be an epic, two-part showdown that you don't want to miss!"





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Guess what show I just binged!
> 
>  _Kitchen Nightmares_ is a blast to watch and pretty much all of the episodes are on YouTube, so no one has any excuse for not watching this show.

_“Tonight, on_ Kitchen Nightmares _…"_

[The logo cuts to rapid shots of local landmarks, including yacht club and lakeside parks.]

_“Chef Nikiforov travels to Grosse Pointe, Michigan, an idyllic suburb just outside of Detroit. There, he meets a young owner who is trapped in a fairy tale… and the past.”_

[Cut to the owner, wearing a varsity jacket, talking to customers.]

Owner: Welcome to Prince Charming’s! _I’m_ the prince.

[The owner laughs heartily while the customers give small chuckles and look at each other awkwardly. Cut to the owner speaking to the camera.]

Owner: My name is Charles Richardson III, but just call me Chad. Everyone around here knows me as the sports star of Grosse Pointe High School.

_“His staff has had enough.”_

[Cut to a young, blonde server speaking to the camera.]

Server: He’s a twenty-three-year-old man who still thinks he’s in high school!

[Cut to the sous-chef arguing against the owner putting a plate of food in the microwave, ultimately losing.]

_“Even customers are done with him.”_

[Cut to Chef Nikiforov standing before a table of diners.]

Customer #1: Sometimes he literally goes up on the balcony and calls us “his royal subjects.”

Customer #2: I thought he was full of himself in high school, but now he’s taken it to the next level!

 _“This is one of the most ignorant—and arrogant—owners in_ Kitchen Nightmares _history.”_

[Cut to the owner arguing with Chef Nikiforov.]

Owner: I don’t think it matters that I’m the head chef even if I didn’t go to school for it. I took home ec at Grosse Pointe High. It’s the greatest high school in this country!

[Chef Nikiforov pinches the bridge of his nose as he turns away.]

_“Can Chef Nikiforov convince Chad to listen before this restaurant has to close its doors for good?”_

[Opening credits roll.]

* * *

Victor looks out the window of the car, watching as the urban skyscrapers give way to a suburban sprawl. He’s sick of this, _so_ sick of parading around in front of the cameras, saying catchphrases and pretending to lose his cool for the drama. Victor just wants to walk away from most of the places he visits because he _knows_ they’re going to fail, no matter how much he tries to help them. The owners are too stubborn or the debt too high for them to succeed.

He knew he was just about done way back in season four, when there was a ratings dip and he only felt a flash of hope instead of the bite of disappointment. The network pushed for more drama, more temporary closures, more desperate cases, more crazy owners, more more more, until ratings increased again. Then they insisted on hyping those extremes and suddenly all the food is the worst he’s ever tasted and every kitchen is the dirtiest he’s ever seen.

At least there are two saving graces to this latest expenditure. The first is that this is the season finale and he’ll be able to take a nice long break back in St. Petersburg with Makkachin. The second is that this restaurant looks to be somewhat promising.

He was expecting more droll blandness at first, just like with any other place, but Yuri insisted the audition video was something else (“Look at this guy! He might be worse than Leroy!” “Who?” “Season three, episode five?” “…who?”). Victor has to admit that several things _did_ catch his eye. The owner, Charles something-or-another, didn’t send the video in; one of the servers, Phichit, did. According to him, Charles—or “Chad” as he prefers to be called—doesn’t think anything is wrong with his restaurant and seems to not even be aware of how badly it’s failing. It was easy to deduce that Chad is the main problem from the candid scenes Phichit shot. They showcased Chad’s ineptitude; he’s loud, obnoxious, and _obsessed_ with telling customers about his sports accomplishments in high school. After every interaction, Phichit turns the camera around to show his face and declare, “Yikes!” Victor has to agree.

Phichit seems to have convinced Chad that they were trying to get Victor to come to help prepare for the upcoming five-year high school reunion, which Chad will be hosting at his restaurant. Chad took great delight in showing off his various trophies and medals that are on display, explaining why this reunion is a big deal _—_ mostly by bragging about how he’ll reprise his role as prom king, making a grand entrance on that damned balcony.

As if the trophies weren’t tacky enough, the rest of the decor is possibly even worse: tablecloths and tapestries and drapings upon drapings that would be considered over-opulent for _Versailles_. A redesign is definitely in order. Chris will have a field day _—_ and by that he means “demand a raise.”

All those are clear signs of a restaurant that needs help, but it’s admirable that a server cares enough to try and save it when even the owner doesn’t. That’s definitely promising, but the part that has Victor excited is a clip just at the end of the audition video. He’s watched it so many times that he practically has it memorized, but that doesn’t stop him from pulling out his phone right there in the car for a rewatch.

Phichit is in a kitchen, though clearly not an industrial one; rather, it appears to be that of an apartment. He’s talking to someone off camera.

“I know you’ve said a thousand times that you don’t want to be in any of the footage, but _pleeeeaaase_ , Yuuri. It will really help our case.”

“Why would anything _I_ say help?” a voice says.

Phichit rolls his eyes. “Because you’re the sous-chef. You’re kinda in the best position to explain exactly why this kitchen is a _nightmare_ . That _is_ the name of the show!”

There’s a sigh and then a sizzle. “Okay, fine.”

Phichit’s gleeful expression is cut off as the camera flips to reveal someone cooking at the stove. His profile is in sharp relief as he focuses on adding some spices to his pan. There’s a full wine glass along with the half-empty bottle on the counter beside him. “First, introduce yourself.”

The man glances at the camera. “I’m Yuuri, the sous-chef at Prince Charming’s. I use that title loosely because the microwave does more work than I do.”

Phichit laughs gleefully. It seems to only egg Yuuri on and he continues with passion in his voice.

“His ‘Royal Highness’ doesn’t know anything about cooking and refuses to listen to me.” Yuuri tosses the pan expertly, sending some potatoes tumbling through the air before they land back in the pan. “ _I_ can cook things fresh, but _he_ can’t so we don’t do it. I hate having a part in serving food like that.”

Yuuri grabs the wine glass and downs it in one go. Phichit cheers in the background.

“If I try to clean, he tells me to get back to work. If I try to organize the walk-in, he yells at me to stop messing up his kitchen. If I try to suggest something, he belittles me because I didn’t go to _Grosse_ fucking High School,” Yuuri rants, deliberately pronouncing the name of the school as “gross.” He abandons his pan to pick up the entire bottle of wine, taking a swig from it as he steps closer to the camera. “Doesn’t matter that I went to Benois! I clearly don’t know what I’m talking about!”

“How about you prove you do. What are you making right now?” Phichit asks.

“Roasted potatoes that literally take ten minutes, but he fucking uses frozen French fries instead!” Yuuri throws up his arms, sloshing some of the wine down his wrist, though he doesn’t seem to notice. He turns back to the pan to give it another toss. His hand reaches off camera and comes back with a fistful of chopped onion, which he drops into the pan. “French fries! I think he’s taking being a ‘French’ restaurant too literally. Oh, and the menu’s _huge_ , but nothing on it is impossible to serve fresh. If it was limited a bit, I could make everything on it fresh every day. I just—I just don’t get why he does things this way.”

“I 100% agree!” Phichit says. “Yet we’re still there. Care to explain, Yuuri?”

Yuuri seems to sober a little bit. “I was out sick for a week and during that time a customer got food poisoning. It was so bad they had to go to the hospital. The little things I do aren’t enough and I don’t try to pretend they are. Things could be a lot better…but that made me realize how much worse they are without me. Someone got sick because I wasn’t there. I can’t let that happen again.”

“And if Yuuri stays, I stay,” Phichit adds.

Yuuri nods with a ghost of a smile on his face. He turns back to the stove, switching the heat off and doling perfectly browned potatoes onto two plates. Phichit zooms in on them.

“Look at that!” he exclaims, his previous brightness bleeding back into his voice. The camera then flips back to his face. “We have people with talent and passion here! With some help, we can make Chad realize that!”

Victor smiles and closes the video. Yuuri. _He’s_ why this is all happening. There have been plenty of chefs who were frustrated with their situations, but Yuuri is…something else. He’s still fighting against the current standards, instead of just complaining about them, and also maintaining his own skills—which were developed at Benois, one of the top culinary schools in the world, not just the country. With Yuuri’s determination and Phichit’s brightness, Victor sees great things coming from this restaurant. For the first time in a long while, he feels actual _hope_.

Unsurprisingly, Phichit has asked him to meet up before going to the restaurant. It’s not an uncommon request, especially of people with very specific complaints, but Victor just knows this will be different. It won’t be someone whining to try to get him on their side; he thinks this will be more of a _warning_. Based on the footage he’s seen, he’s more than willing to listen.

The park Phichit set as their meeting place will be the first stop, even before the hotel. Victor doesn’t mind, if only because it would be much harder to convince himself to go back out once he’s already settled in his hotel room and FaceTiming with Makkachin and the dogsitter. (Also, he’s hoping that Phichit convinced Yuuri to come along.)

When the car pulls up, Phichit is already standing and waving, though there’s another figure sitting on the bench behind him. Victor feels a thrill as they come to a stop. He steps out with a public smile on his face. The cameras might not be rolling yet, but he still has an image to maintain.

* * *

Yuuri can’t believe he’s doing this. He can’t believe they’re sitting here waiting for Chef Nikiforov to arrive so they can speak with him. Going back further, he can’t believe Phichit really sent all that footage in and they were actually chosen to be on _Kitchen Nightmares_. At first, he could only think about how amazing it will be to see Chef Nikiforov put Chad in his place, but then it occurred to him that means _Chef Nikiforov_ will come _here_ and that led to downward spiral that was a mix of excitement and anxiety. He thought he mostly got over that, but apparently hasn’t as a car rounds the corner and his heart rate skyrockets.

“I think that’s him,” Phichit says, standing and walking closer to the curb. He starts waving enthusiastically. “It is!”

The car parks just in front of them. Yuuri expects a camera crew to unload and set up, but Chef Nikiforov steps out first. There’s a smile on his face as he walks right up to Phichit. It’s so much brighter in-person than it is on TV.

“Good morning, you must be Phichit,” he greets, holding out his hand.

“That I am! Thank you for coming, Chef Nikiforov,” Phichit says brightly and returns the handshake. He glances over his shoulder at Yuuri to give him an expectant look.

Yuuri can’t react, caught between being starstruck and terrified.

“Anytime. I’m just glad to help out.” Chef Nikiforov leans around Phichit and Yuuri settles on terrified, _definitely_ terrified. “And _you_ must be Yuuri!”

Mind completely blank, Yuuri can only blink.

“ _Yuuri_!” Phichit stage whispers and he snaps to attention.

“You know my name?!” Why is that the first thing he thinks to say? He wants to hide under a rock.

Chef Nikiforov laughs a bit, though not at all condescendingly. “Of course. Your comments on the state of the kitchen were very insightful.”

“My _what_?” There’s a horrible sinking sensation in his stomach. He very slowly turns his head to look at Phichit. No doubt he’s behind this.

“From when you were cooking and complaining. It seems like things are quite dire, even if you’re doing your best to keep things afloat,” Chef Nikiforov says and it’s exactly as he feared.

Yuuri manages to work out there’s a compliment in there and feels his face heating—though that might also be the anger. That night, Phichit brought home a bottle of wine to bribe him into talking, but he also said he might not include that footage, giving him the additional reassurance that it was unlikely Chef Nikiforov himself watches audition videos. Yuuri narrows his eyes into a vicious glare and Phichit only shrugs.

His gaze snaps back to Chef Nikiforov, who is watching silently, looking a touch concerned. Yuuri jumps to his feet. “I’m so sorry about that! I was drinking and normally wouldn’t say things like that and I’m so embarrassed that was sent to you, Chef Nikiforov!”

“No need to be embarrassed. Honesty is always preferred.” Chef Nikiforov offers his hand. “And, please, call me Victor. I’m not here to be your chef.”

Yuuri reaches to complete the handshake. He can’t believe he’s actually shaking Chef Niki _—_ Victor’s hand!

“Um, sir, are you almost ready to begin? The light’s good.”

Yuuri looks up and sees that a camera crew has unloaded and set up equipment during their conversation. Please _please_ , let them not have been filming this whole thing!

Victor lets go of Yuuri’s hand to bring his own together in a sharp clap, snapping everyone to attention.

“Oh, yes! Let me explain a bit about how we’ll be filming,” Victor says. “Some parts of this will be staged, seeing as we’ve already introduced ourselves, but I do want most of the conversation to be natural. Tell me anything that comes to mind, complaint or compliment, and I’ll ask some guiding questions. Don’t worry too much about what you’re saying; we can always do more takes and everything will be adjusted in editing anyway.”

Yuuri lets out a sigh of relief. At least he gets a second chance to not make fool out of himself on camera.

* * *

_“Grosse Pointe: a small, close-knit community located just outside of Detroit. It seems like the perfect place for the local, self-proclaimed golden boy to set up business.”_

[A series of shots show parts of the town, focusing on sports facilities and ending inside the restaurant on a shelf laden with trophies and photos. Chad is gesturing to them grandly.]

Chad: I was on the football team, the hockey team, the lacrosse team—everything! I got all the awards, too.

[Cut to a young blonde girl speaking to the camera. A header proclaims her as a server named Leanne.]

Leanne: I’m still in high school and I care less about what happens there than he does.

[Cut to Chad wearing a varsity jacket and “cooking” in the kitchen.]

Chad: (voiceover) I had to keep up my grades to stay in athletics and I figured home ec would be pretty easy. Turns out I’m a natural!

[He pours a box of Kraft Mac & Cheese into a pot of barely boiling water, cursing as the cheese packet falls in with the macaroni. There are more curses as he fishes it out with his fingers. A black-haired young man watches in what can be described as horror. Cut to this man speaking to the camera, though he simply covers his face with his hands and groans. The header labels him as the sous-chef, Yuuri. Cut back to Chad, still in his varsity jacket, though this time walking amongst the tables and stopping to talk at a few.]

Chad: (voiceover) I also pride myself on customer service. I greet all the customers personally. I bet they really appreciate the honor of meeting the sports star of Grosse Pointe High _and_ the chef who is going to cook their delicious dinner.

[Leanne tries to approach the table to take orders, but Chad waves her away. She retreats to the kitchen and throws up her hands. Yuuri nods sympathetically. He eyes the still-cooking pot on the stove, which is starting to bubble more frantically. Cut to Yuuri speaking to the camera, actually looking up this time.]

Yuuri: I’m not allowed to do _anything_ related to the food. He says he doesn’t trust me, but the real problem is his ego. He wants all the glory, but the joke’s on him because there’s nothing glorious coming out of this kitchen.

[Cut back to the kitchen. Yuuri glances anxiously out the door, but a quick cutaway shows that Chad is still chatting it up with customers. Yuuri sighs in frustration, but the pot of pasta gives a dangerous sizzle as it boils over. He dashes over to turn off the heat, reaching for a strainer _—_ just as Chad walks back in.]

Chad: What are you doing?!

Yuuri: (taking a quick step back) It’s overcooked and could become a hazard if all the water boils out _—_

Chad: It’s fine!

[Chad strains the macaroni, most of the elbows disintegrating with wet splats as they’re poured into the strainer. Barely any water comes out with them. Yuuri looks disgusted.]

Chad: There! Perfect!

[Cut to Yuuri speaking to the camera, his face back in his hands.]

Yuuri: (muffled) I didn’t go to culinary school for this.

[Cut to another black-haired young man, the head server, Phichit, speaking to the camera.]

Phichit: This whole restaurant is just an ego trip for him, all expenses paid by daddy. He’s here to live out his fantasy and apparently that includes serving ****** food _—_ _oops_! (hands flying up to cover his mouth) Am I allowed to swear? That’ll be bleeped out right? Okay, good!

[Cut to Phichit checking in on a table. The diners voice their disgust with the food, though Phichit’s sunny disposition soothes their anger. He takes their full plates of food back to the kitchen. Just as he reaches the door, the lights dim and he freezes. The camera darts around the room, as if searching for something.]

Chad: (voiceover) I have a special segment that I do a few times a night. I had this fully functional balcony installed because, well, I’m the prince of Prince Charming’s and how else should royalty address his subjects?

[The camera finally settles on the balcony. Chad walks out, arms spread wide as a fanfare plays over the speakers.]

Chad: Hear ye, hear ye…

[Cut to several shots of customers looking at each other with varying levels of bewilderment and annoyance.]

Chad: I have come out once again to address my royal subjects!

[Cut to Phichit speaking to the camera.]

Phichit: That? Yeah, that happens _every night_.

[Cut back to Chad talking on the balcony.]

Chad: Thank you so much for coming to Prince Charming’s. I’ll be your prince for tonight _—_ and forever. (laughs) I just wanted to _—_

Phichit: (voiceover) Stop, _please_ , stop! Spare us! He’ll go on and on _forever_. The lovely folks at home don’t deserve to listen to that if they don’t have to.

[Cut to a picture of Phichit and Yuuri, noticeably more round-cheeked and fresh-faced.]

Phichit: (voiceover) Yuuri and I have been friends for many years. We want to make careers in this business and Prince Charming’s isn’t something you want on your résumé. Since Chad doesn’t care, we’ve taken the initiative to try and turn this place around.

[Cut to Yuuri speaking to the camera.]

Yuuri: Chad may not care, but we do.

[Cut back to Phichit.]

Phichit: Chef Nikiforov, help us overthrow the king! (pumping his fist in air) Vive la révolution!

[A sweeping graphic cuts to B-roll footage showing Chef Nikiforov staring out the window of a car as small-town scenery passes by. The shot then cuts to him walking along the outskirts of a park, approaching two young men.]

_“Chef Nikiforov arrives in Grosse Pointe, but before he goes to the restaurant he will be meeting with Phichit, the server who requested he visit, and Yuuri, the sous-chef.”_

Chef Nikiforov: Hello! I assume you’re Phichit?

Phichit: Yes, I am. I’m a server at Prince Charming’s. Thank you for coming.

[They shake hands.]

Chef Nikiforov: The pleasure is all mine. And you are?

Yuuri: I’m Yuuri, the sous-chef.

[Another shaking of hands.]

Chef Nikiforov: Great. Fantastic to meet you both. Let’s get right into it. What are your biggest concerns?

[All three sit on a bench for the discussion.]

Phichit: Chad just doesn’t know what he’s doing. His dad bought him the restaurant when he first graduated from high school.

Chef Nikiforov: _High school_?

[The camera focuses in on his face to capture his disbelief.]

Chef Nikiforov: That’s a bit young to be owner, isn’t it? And no time to get any training. What does dad do at the restaurant?

Phichit: Nothing. The most I’ve seen of him is a check with his name on it.

[Phichit laughs.]

Yuuri: He just gives Chad money to cover the bills. I don’t think he knows anything about the financial situation—or even cares.

Phichit: He can always throw more money around. It’s not about _making_ money for him or Chad.

Chef Nikiforov: Is it about the passion, then?

Yuuri: It’s not about serving good food either. Chad mostly just likes to say he owns a restaurant.

[Chef Nikiforov shakes his head in disbelief.]

Chef Nikiforov: Wow. So how about the rest of the staff?

Phichit: The other servers are just part-timer high school kids, so there’s not much they can do.

Chef Nikiforov: And in the kitchen?

Yuuri: There’s just me. I think the only reason Chad hired a sous-chef was because it sounded French, so fit the theme of the restaurant.

[Phichit snorts and even Chef Nikiforov can’t suppress a smile.]

Chef Nikiforov: Seems like we’ve got quite the project on our hands. What do the locals think of the place?

[Phichit and Yuuri exchange a glance.]

Phichit: I think they found him charming when he was a teenager, but they’re barely tolerating it now.

Yuuri: This town and its people are really nice and don’t deserve to be served such awful food. I try to uphold standards in the kitchen, but I know Chad doesn’t. There was this one week I was out sick…

[Yuuri trails off, looking despondent. Phichit gives his shoulder an encouraging pat.]

Yuuri: Someone got terrible food poisoning. I really blame myself for that. If I was there…

Chef Nikiforov: You’re worried about what will happen if you leave for good?

[Yuuri nods.]

Phichit: Also, not gonna lie, we would really like to see Chad get taken down a peg!

[The somber mood is broken with laughter. Everyone shakes hands again and parts ways. Chef Nikiforov approaches the camera.]

Chef Nikiforov: Seems like I’ve got my work cut out for me. It’s always sad when owners aren’t invested, but the passion of these two employees gives me hope that we can still turn this around.

[Smash cut.]

_“Coming up…Chef Nikiforov heads for the restaurant to observe lunch service.”_

[Chef Nikiforov is walking down a sidewalk.]

Chef Nikiforov: I’m almost scared.

[Cut to him only a few meters down the way, looking shocked.]

_“But could something put an end to this meal before it even begins?”_

[Chef Nikiforov is now seated inside and has just picked up his menu when the restaurant suddenly goes dark.]

_“And is that possibly for the best?”_

[In a close-up, Chef Nikiforov makes a sound of disgust, covering his mouth with his hand and turning away.]

 _“Stay tuned for_ Kitchen Nightmares _.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a random note of positivity: The past three weekends I've been going to the YoI screenings and it was amazing seeing the show on a theater-size screen! I felt super inspired, which is what led to me finally finishing this and posting it. If you've been brought down by the negativity going around, take it from someone who actually saw the teaser that it's absolutely gorgeous, from the animation to the music to the content. It has only made me look forward to the movie even more and, like I said above, inspired me to create. I can't wait for everyone outside of Japan to see it, so here's to the teaser hopefully coming out internationally by the end of the week!


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for all the kudos and comments on the first chapter! This has been incredibly fun to write, so I'm glad others are enjoying it as well. This chapter features lunch at Prince Charming's and I don't recommend reading while eating!
> 
> Edit: I'm terrible and forgot to beta credit :( Thank you sooo much for the beta, [Athra](https://archiveofourown.org/users/getaway_machine)!!

_“Previously on_ Kitchen Nightmares _…”_

[A series of shots show the beauty of the park, ending with Chef Nikiforov walking down a sidewalk.]

_“Chef Nikiforov has just met with Phichit and Yuuri, the head server and the sous chef, to discuss the going-ons of Prince Charming’s. After an enlightening conversation about some of the major problems there, Chef Nikiforov is ready to head to the restaurant for lunch service.”_

* * *

Victor knows it’s a common misconception that he has nothing to do with the production of his show, despite being listed as a _producer_. While he tries to avoid micromanaging, he still likes to have some degree of control and to know what’s going on. In particular, he watches audition videos and gives his own input about where they should go. Nothing was said out loud, but Victor knows Phichit and Yuuri suspected he wouldn’t watch theirs. It’s not unexpected, yet still irksome. He isn’t going to just stand around, waiting for the director to tell him what to do! He tried not to let it bother him and instead took as much control of this meeting scene as he could.

He can’t stay irritated for long because, in a way, it’s his fault. It’s obvious that his passion is fading. They must have assumed he just doesn’t bother anymore.

Well, this episode is going to be different! Speaking with Phichit and Yuuri has inspired him, making him actually _excited_ to help.

“I’m almost scared,” he says into the camera, which carefully follows him as he walks. They’re shooting some B-roll, as well as preparing to capture his actual first reaction to seeing the restaurant. “After what Phichit and Yuuri have told me, I’m…”

Victor trails off, stunned. It appears he’s found Prince Charming’s.

Just off the sidewalk is what appears to be a castle. There are two huge, rose gold marble columns framing the front entrance and several turrets—which Victor hopes to _god_ are fake—rise out of the roof, complete with banners flying from the tops.

Now, Victor doesn’t like to brag about his ancestry, but his family has been rich for generations. They’re old money, meaning they know when to invest and when to splurge. This place absolutely _reeks_ of new money: those who have recently come into their wealth and have _no_ subtlety when it comes to flaunting it. They go for the most expensive options without considering the quality or coordination!

Victor is very certain there were no professionals involved in designing this monstrosity. No one who wanted work afterwards would have allowed this. It strikes him as odd because wouldn’t hiring an interior designer show off that you’re rich enough to afford one?

Chris is going to _weep_ when he sees this.

The director waves frantically at him and Victor remembers that the cameras are still filming. They must have more than enough footage of his shocked face by now; he needs to say something.

“Okay, I’m definitely scared now,” he comments with a grimace. At least he doesn’t have to do much acting.

* * *

[The shot opens inside the restaurant, just as Chef Nikiforov enters. Phichit immediately approaches him from where he was waiting at the host station.]

Phichit: Chef Nikiforov! So glad to see you—but also extremely sorry that you’ve come here.

Chef Nikiforov: (laughing) Call me “Victor,” please. Phichit, I assume?

[Chef Nikiforov holds out his hand and Phichit meets him with a sly smile; despite meeting earlier, they must keep up appearances.]

Chef Nikiforov: Now, where is our illustrious owner?

Phichit: Oh, Chad is…around. He reserved you a very special table and said he’ll speak with you shortly.

Chef Nikiforov: For some reason I have a bad feeling about that.

[Phichit grimaces, grabs a menu, and leads the way through the restaurant. They wind through the opulent tables, all of which are empty. Phichit stops in front of a table in the middle of the room with a single chair facing the infamous balcony. He plucks a “Reserved” sign off of it.]

Phichit: Here we are.

Chef Nikiforov: I see there wasn’t much need for the reservation…

[Phichit laughs and then sweeps off for the kitchen. Chef Nikiforov picks up the menu, but suddenly the restaurant goes dark.]

Chef Nikiforov: Is the place shutting down already? I thought they didn’t have money problems…

[A spotlight turns on, focusing on the balcony. Curtains part and Chad walks out.]

Chad: Welcome to Prince Charming’s, Chef Nikiforov!

[The camera zooms in on Chef Nikiforov’s face to show his wide eyes and dropped jaw before cutting back to Chad.]

Chad: I promise to give you a dining experience you’ll never forget!

[Cut back to Chef Nikiforov composing himself.]

Chef Nikiforov: (keep his voice low, for the microphones only) I don’t think I’ll be forgetting this, though not for the reasons he may expect.

[Cut back to Chad on the balcony.]

Chad: I’ll cook anything you order perfectly. Take your time looking at the menu. Oh re-voar!

[The spotlight fades out, followed shortly by the overhead lights flickering back on. Chef Nikiforov sits, stunned, in the middle of the empty restaurant.]

Chef Nikiforov: Was…was that bit at the end supposed to be _French_?

[Phichit returns with a glass of water and a basket of bread.]

Phichit: Sorry about that.

Chef Nikiforov: Does that happen often?

Phichit: At least once a night.

Chef Nikiforov: _At least_? That certainly explains why people aren’t coming around. I just hope the food warrants all that pomp and circumstance.

Phichit: (bluntly) It doesn’t.

Chef Nikiforov: (sighing) Oh boy. Well, since the lights went out there, I haven’t had a chance to look at the menu yet.

Phichit: I’ll come back in a few minutes then.

[The camera follows Phichit back to the kitchen, where Chad is preening and pulling an apron on over his varsity jacket. Yuuri steps out of the walk-in freezer, going right over to Phichit.]

Yuuri: (whispering) I feel really bad just letting Chad cook for Victor.

Phichit: (whispering) I know what you mean, but if you cooked, it wouldn’t be an accurate representation of the kitchen.

Yuuri: (whispering) I double checked all the stock. Nothing will _kill_ him at least. (louder, addressing Chad) Is there anything I can help with?

Chad: No way! This needs to be perfect, so only _I_ will be touching the food for Chef Nikiforov.

[Yuuri sighs heavily and turns away. Cut back to Chef Nikiforov in the dining room. He’s still looking over the menu.]

Chef Nikiforov: This menu is _huge_. Not to mention difficult to read.

[The camera zooms in as Chef Nikiforov flips through the many, _many_ pages. There’s an elaborate border on each page, crowding the text, which is in a swooping cursive font. The lack of contrast between the beige background and the gold lettering makes it nearly illegible.]

Chef Nikiforov: It seems many of these items are in French, or at least attempting to be. There’s no accent marks, which completely changes the meanings. Wow.

[Phichit slides up to the table with a knowing smirk on his face.]

Phichit: How are things coming along?

Chef Nikiforov: What is with this menu? Even if customers can find anything with how big it is, I don’t think they could read it.

Phichit: Yes, we’ve gotten many complaints about that.

Chef Nikiforov: I’ll just have to order what I can read. To start, let’s go with the _charcuterie_ plate and the French onion soup.

[There’s a quick cut to Phichit wincing as he enters those into the POS system.]

Phichit: Looks like you’ll get proper sampling of what Prince Charming’s has to offer.

Chef Nikiforov: That doesn’t bode well. I take it the “fillet” mignon is actually filet mignon.

Phichit: (laughing) You would be correct!

Chef Nikiforov: I suppose I’ll also have one of those.

Phichit: And how would you like that cooked?

Chef Nikiforov: Medium rare. Let’s finish off with a _crème brûlée_.

Phichit: Okay. I’ve put all that in. Anything else I can get for you?

Chef Nikiforov: I’m all set for the moment, thank you.

[As Phichit walks away, Chef Nikiforov turns to talk to the camera.]

Chef Nikiforov: I was extremely hesitant to eat here after Yuuri mentioned that incident of food poisoning, but he wasn’t in the kitchen then. I know he’s back there right now, so that’s the only thing keeping me in this seat. At least I know he’ll stop Chad from _killing_ me.

[Cut to the kitchen, where Chad is reading over the ticket.]

Chad: We got Chef Nikiforov’s order in. The char-cut-ery plate, French onion soup, fillet mig-non, and cream bur-lay!

[Yuuri looks as if he’s about to explode from holding back all the corrections he wants to make. Chad first heads for a freezer chest, taking a frozen single-serving of French onion soup out of a box. He puts it in a bowl and pops it into the microwave. He then moves onto preparing the _charcuterie_ plate. Yuuri watches everything, pained.]

Chad: (voiceover) I have a lot of confidence in my cooking. Chef Nikiforov is going to love everything!

[Cut to Chef Nikiforov in the dining room. He gets up from his seat and starts to look around.]

Chef Nikiforov: Look at all this fabric! I can’t imagine this is easy to keep clean.

[Chef Nikiforov goes from table to table, lifting all the drapings to check underneath.]

Chef Nikiforov: Wow. I’m surprised. I was expecting dust and dirt under all of these, but it’s practically spotless.

[Just as he sits back down, Phichit comes out of the kitchen with a plate.]

Phichit: Here is the _charcuterie_ plate.

[Phichit sets the plate down on the table and Chef Nikiforov examines it, confused. Phichit goes back to the kitchen with a knowing look on his face.]

Chef Nikiforov: This is the _charcuterie_ plate? It’s supposed to be meat-based. While some cheese can be included for additional flavoring, this one is _only_ cheese.

[Chef Nikiforov picks up a slice of cheese and gives it a shake, revealing the rubbery shine and texture.]

Chef Nikiforov: And none of it looks appealing. This looks like those American vacuum-packed slices…

[Chef Nikiforov takes a cautious bite.]

Chef Nikiforov: Ugh, and tastes like it, too. This one is just unpeeled string cheese and—oh my, this cottage cheese is so watery that it’s practically a puddle. It’s even seeping into the other cheeses!

[Chef Nikiforov tilts the serving plate, showing how the water from the cottage cheese has leaked.]

Chef Nikiforov: Well, that’s off-putting. I don’t think I’ll be having any more of this.

[Cut to the kitchen. The microwave starts to beep as Chad stands at the grill. He seems to be having a hard time choosing where to should focus his attention.]

Chad: Argh! Yuuri!

[Yuuri startles at being addressed.]

Yuuri: (hesitantly) Yes?

Chad: Can I trust you to get the French onion soup from the microwave and bring it to the serving area without spilling it? I need to focus on the fillet mig-non.

Yuuri: (deadpan) I think I can handle that.

[As Chad turns back to the grill, Yuuri heads for the microwave. He takes the bowl out, grimacing at the contents.]

Yuuri: I think this could use a few more minutes—

Chad: I followed the instructions exactly! Just put it out.

[Yuuri sighs and brings the bowl over to a waiting Phichit.]

Yuuri: (whispering) Under extreme protest, I ask you to take this to Chef Nikiforov.

[Phichit gives him a sympathetic look and takes the soup out of the kitchen. The shot cuts to him approaching Chef Nikiforov’s table.]

Phichit: And here’s the French onion soup. Are you finished with the _charcuterie_ plate?

Chef Nikiforov: Thank you and yes, I most definitely am.

Phichit: (too innocently) I notice you didn’t eat much of it. Not to your liking?

Chef Nikiforov: Can’t say it was. Could you please tell Chad that a _charcuterie_ plate is suppose to be a variety of meats and, if it does include some cheese, it should never come from a plastic package. Thank you.

Phichit: Hopefully he’ll listen if you’re the one saying it.

[Phichit pulls a towel out of his apron pocket and uses it to pick up the plate, catching the overspill from the cottage cheese. It’s obvious he’s done this many times to prevent dripping. The camera follows him into the kitchen, where he sets the plate down next to a sink and wrings out his towel.]

Phichit: Chad, Chef Nikiforov says you don’t know what a _charcuterie_ plate is.

Chad: It’s pronounced char-cut-ery and of course I know what it is! I made it!

[Phichit and Yuuri exchange a look.]

Phichit: Of _course_. Sorry.

Chad: Just go back to the front and mind your own business. I want to take the fillet mig-non out to him myself.

[Cut back to Chef Nikiforov picking up a spoon to try the French onion soup.]

Chef Nikiforov: Where are the cheese and croutons? They’re supposed to form a nice layer on top. If my suspicions are correct…

[Chef Nikiforov dips the spoon into the bowl and comes up with a mass of cheese and onion.]

Chef Nikiforov: There we are. The cheese will melt into the soup like this if it’s heated in a microwave. Not only does this ruin the presentation, but it also makes the croutons soggy.

[Chef Nikiforov picks a crouton out of the soup and puts it on his bread plate. He presses with the flat of his spoon, squishing it down.]

Chef Nikiforov: Look at that. Soggy croutons in French onion soup. Wow. Hopefully the taste can make up for it.

[Chef Nikiforov tries a spoonful of the soup, then purses his lips.]

Chef Nikiforov: This is barely lukewarm and from the taste I can tell it was frozen. Again, I’m extremely disappointed and unimpressed.

[Phichit comes over.]

Phichit: All set with this as well?

Chef Nikiforov: Yes, definitely. Do you know how much of the food is frozen?

Phichit: I would say pretty much anything that can be.

Chef Nikiforov: Wow. Judging by what I saw on the menu, that could be nearly everything. Is there anything fresh back there?

Phichit: I don’t believe so, no.

[The kitchen door swings open with a bang and Chad strolls over with a plate in hand. He sets it down on the table with a flourish, revealing a charred piece of meat and a pile of French fries.]

Chad: You don’t have to say anything; I know it’s all been delicious. Continue enjoying my food with this fillet mig-non. Bone app the teeth!

[Chad saunters back into the kitchen. Phichit is holding back his laughter at Chef Nikiforov’s look of disbelief.]

Chef Nikiforov: Wha-What?

Phichit: You didn’t hear? (cheerily) Scone app the beef!

Chef Nikiforov: (jokingly) Does anyone in this restaurant speak French!?

[As Phichit laughs and takes away the French onion soup, Chef Nikiforov turns warily to the latest plate set in front of him. He uses a fork and knife to turn and lift the meat, examining it from all angles.]

Chef Nikiforov: This would have been an excellent cut of beef if it hadn’t been seared to hell.

[The camera zooms in to emphasize the burn marks.]

Chef Nikiforov: In French, _filet mignon_ actually means a cut of this muscle from a _pig_. When referring to this particular cut from a cow, one would use _filet de bœuf_. If Chad is going for a French theme, he should fully commit instead of just occasionally pretending.

[Chef Nikiforov cuts the meat in half to check the inside.]

Chef Nikiforov: There was a chance the outside was seared too much before being cooked on a lower heat, but sadly that was not the case. The inside is well-done. What a terrible thing to do to such a beautiful cut of beef.

[Chef Nikiforov slices a piece off and chews on it, wrinkling his nose.]

Chef Nikiforov: I can only taste the char. There’s not even a sauce to add some flavor.

[Chef Nikiforov pushes the meat aside.]

Chef Nikiforov: I have to laugh at the French fries. While _steak frites_ is common enough in France, the cut of beef served in this dish would _never_ be filet mignon. Not to mention that the fries would be homemade, which these—

[Chef Nikiforov pauses to pop a fry into his mouth. He makes a face.]

Chef Nikiforov: —are clearly not.

[Phichit comes over.]

Phichit: How is the filet mignon?

Chef Nikiforov: It would be wrong to call it that. I’m done.

Phichit: I’ll just take that out of your way. The _crème brûlée_ should be out shortly.

Chef Nikiforov: Can you also tell Chad that he must cook meat to the customer’s specifications? I requested medium rare and that certainly _wasn’t_. Thank you.

[The camera follows Phichit back to the kitchen. Chad looks confused at the barely-touched plate.]

Chad: Why didn’t he finish that?

Phichit: He asked for it medium rare and this is burned.

Chad: No, he asked for it cooked and I cooked it.

[Yuuri drops his face into his hands.]

Chad: Whatever, just take the cream bur-lay out.

[Phichit sighs heavily and complies. Cut to Chef Nikiforov waiting at the table as Phichit approaches.]

Phichit: And, finally, here’s the _crème brûlée_.

Chef Nikiforov: I must confess that I’m more grateful for the end than I am for the food.

Phichit: I don’t blame you.

[Phichit walks away and Chef Nikiforov picks up a spoon.]

Chef Nikiforov: Now for my favorite part of _crème brûlée_ —and the true test. Time to crack the _brûlée_.

[Chef Nikiforov gives the top a few light taps and scrapes.]

Chef Nikiforov: Unfortunately, I’m not hearing anything. I think all the fire went into cooking that filet mignon and none was left to _brûlée_.

[Chef Nikiforov swings the spoon down, but sinks into the custard with a _plop_.]

Chef Nikiforov: How disappointing. The custard doesn’t look like much either. It’s very thin. Usually, I would say some of the water bath must have spilled into the ramekin, but I suspect this came out of a box.

[Chef Nikiforov takes a bite, only to quickly grab his napkin and spit it out.]

Chef Nikiforov: Oh, that was hideous.

[Chef Nikiforov pushes the plate away. Noticing this, Phichit comes over.]

Phichit: Finished?

Chef Nikiforov: Yes. Yes, very much so. At least it’s over.

Phichit: Not quite. Once I bring this back to the kitchen, Chad is gonna want to come out and brag…I mean talk.

Chef Nikiforov: By all means let him. I have several things I would like to say.

[Phichit nods and the camera catches his smirk as he goes to the kitchen.]

Chef Nikiforov: I’m just concerned about whether or not Chad will _listen_. I’ve seen this kind of arrogance from chefs many times before, but this is an extraordinary case because Chad has _nothing_ to back it up. He has no training and he’s not even making his own food.

Chad: (offscreen) Chef Nikiforov!

[Chef Nikiforov stands and holds out his hand. Chad steps forward and gives it a hearty shake.]

Chef Nikiforov: You must be Chad. Nice to finally meet you long enough to introduce myself.

Chad: I like to make a big first impression and let my food do the talking!

Chef Nikiforov: Really? I only heard bad things.

[Chad’s easy smile drops from his face.]

Chad: …what?

Chef Nikiforov: To start off, do you even know what a _charcuterie_ plate is?

[Chad looks even more shaken.]

Chad: …isn’t it char-cut-ery?

Chef Nikiforov: No, it’s not. It’s also not a cheese plate.

Chad: But…that’s what came up when I Googled names for cheese plates.

[Chad becomes more irritated and defensive, though Chef Nikiforov continues to speak in an even tone.]

Chef Nikiforov: It’s clear you didn’t actually read any of those sites, as they would have told you the correct definition. What you served me today definitely wasn’t a _charcuterie_ plate, but it wasn’t a cheese plate either.

Chad: It had a lot of cheese on it!

Chef Nikiforov: None of which should be served at a restaurant! Let’s move on because this wasn’t the worst dish.

Chad: The others were bad, too?!

Chef Nikiforov: The French onion soup was frozen and cooked in a microwave.

Chad: Well, yeah, that’s how it comes and I followed the directions. What was I supposed to do?

[Chef Nikiforov gives Chad a disbelieving look.]

Chef Nikiforov: Make the soup yourself.

Chad: Who would know how to do that?

[Chef Nikiforov raises his eyebrows.]

Chef Nikiforov: A chef.

[Chad seems confused, but Chef Nikiforov continues with his critique before he can say anything.]

Chef Nikiforov: The filet mignon? A disaster. Charred and cooked to hell. The _crème brûlée_? Disgusting. Undercooked custard and a soft glaze that didn’t crack. As the chef, I would expect you to—

Chad: Well, I’m not the only one back there! I have a sous chef.

Chef Nikiforov: Oh? I would like to meet your sous chef as well.

[Cut to the kitchen, where Phichit and Yuuri scramble away from where they were listening against the door. Chad enters.]

Chad: Yuuri, get out here!

[Chad and Yuuri make their way back to Chef Nikiforov. Yuuri shifts and fidgets in apprehension.]

Yuuri: I-I’m the sous chef, Yuuri.

Chef Nikiforov: Nice to meet you, Yuuri. Victor, please.

[They shake hands and Victor gives Yuuri a quick wink, which seems to calm him marginally.]

Chef Nikiforov: Yuuri, what was your involvement in preparing what I was served today?

Yuuri: I, um, took the French onion soup of the microwave. (glancing nervously at Chad) I pointed out that it wasn’t fully heated, but was told to send it out anyway.

Chef Nikiforov: So you had no say in the ingredients or cooking methods?

Yuuri: None.

Chef Nikiforov: And is that your normal level of involvement in the kitchen?

Yuuri: I would say that’s the most I’ve done in the past several months.

[Chef Nikiforov turns back to Chad.]

Chef Nikiforov: Chad, why would you try to blame _your_ failure on one of your employees?

Chad: I wasn’t, I—

Chef Nikiforov: Why do you have a sous chef who doesn’t do any cooking in the kitchen?

Chad: Because _I’m_ the chef! _I_ do all the cooking!

[Chad has moved onto anger.]

Chef Nikiforov: You call that cooking? I think it all came here frozen and then was heated up in the microwave. That’s not cooking. Again, I ask why do you have a sous chef?

Chad: Aren’t I _supposed_ to have one?

Chef Nikiforov: Yes, but you’re also supposed to _use_ them.

Chad: I’m the owner! I can run things the way I want. I can handle it all myself.

Chef Nikiforov: I think lunch was a clear indication that you can’t. Even _I_ have sous chefs when I cook in my own restaurants. The kitchen quickly falls apart without their support. Besides, I think you could learn something from yours. Yuuri?

[Yuuri snaps to attention.]

Yuuri: (startled) Yes!?

Chef Nikiforov: Could you make everything I ordered today without using frozen or canned ingredients, completely fresh?

[Chad initially looks stunned at the very suggestion, but he recovers and scoffs.]

Chad: Who could—

Yuuri: Yes. If we had the proper supplies, I could make anything on the menu fresh.

Chad: What? How…

[Yuuri hesitates for a moment before he draws himself up and looks Chad square in the face.]

Yuuri: I went to culinary school.

Chef Nikiforov: Thank you, Yuuri. Chad, you have a lot to think about. I’ll leave you to prepare for dinner service and be back in a few hours.

* * *

“Cut!”

Yuuri blinks. Oh. He completely forget they were filming this! He just said _that_ with the camera rolling!

“That was a great shot!” Victor says. “I think—”

“I still don’t get it!” Chad says. “I follow the directions. How is it not good?”

“That’s not what being a chef is about,” Victor says calmly. He doesn’t seem to mind being interrupted. “Let’s save this conversation for later. I would like to see how a typical dinner service goes, so I’ll give you time to prepare.”

Looking annoyed, Chad stalks back to the kitchen, narrowly avoiding walking straight into Phichit.

“Oh my god, that was amazing!” Phichit says lowly once he’s close enough.

Yuuri can’t help sharing Phichit’s enthusiasm, leaning into him as they laugh. It really was something else to see Chad finally be told, to his face, that he isn’t skilled at cooking by someone he will actually listen to. Hopefully, at least. There’s still no guarantee that Victor will be able to get through to him. Yuuri sneaks a glance over at him. With no cameras rolling, he seems to have relaxed a bit, but he hasn’t completely let go of the tight control he holds over his posture and expression. It’s just taking off one mask and putting on another.

Yuuri is distantly aware that Phichit has moved over to talk with Victor and the crew about setting up the cameras for dinner service, but he can’t stop looking at Victor. Is this always how it is for him filming the show? Never letting his guard down for the entire week? Yuuri has seen every episode of all of Victor’s shows, but never thought that deeply about the strain put upon him. Victor was so natural in front of the cameras, even if he was noticeably lower-energy in some of the more recent episodes. Even then it was only to dedicated viewers. He made it all look _easy_.

A sharp clap from Victor breaks Yuuri out of his thoughts.

“Okay then!” Victor is announcing. “That’s all settled. We’ll get out of your way for dinner service preparations.”

Phichit pushes in the chair of the table where Victor sat. “There. We’re all ready.”

The crew shares a laugh.

“I do have to admit,” Victor says, “seeing this all in person was…enlightening. I think that after dinner service I’ll have a better idea of how to help.”

Victor glances over at Yuuri with a smile and he can’t help the swooping sensation in his stomach. He remembers how Victor winked at him when they shook hands and tries not to let a blush bleed onto his face.

“Is everything okay, Yuuri? I hope I didn’t put you on the spot there.”

Yuuri sputters for a moment, worried that Victor caught him staring, but he seems genuinely concerned. “No, not at all! I-I just can’t believe I said that.”

“I think it was exactly what Chad needed to hear.”

Yuuri nods. He just hopes it will spur Chad to _change_ , not fire him.

* * *

_“Next…Chef Nikiforov returns to the restaurant for dinner service and is met with an icy reception.”_

[Chef Nikiforov is digging through the walk-in, pulling out box after box of premade, frozen food.]

Chef Nikiforov: (voiceover) Does any cooking even happen in this kitchen?

[Cut to Chef Nikiforov standing very close to Chad and looking him straight in the face.]

Chef Nikiforov: You have no right to call yourself a chef.

_“And a surprising secret is revealed that shocks the entire staff.”_

Chef Nikiforov: How often do you clean?

Chad: I don’t.

Chef Nikiforov: Then who does?

[Cut to Chad and the servers looking at each other, confused.]

 _“Stay tuned for_ Kitchen Nightmares _.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope this was as entertaining to read as it was to write! At least things weren't quite as gross as the real show can get? I personally think some of the worst stuff was at Mama Maria's, where they frozen pretty much everything and a customer ended up getting sick enough to go to the hospital from eating the lobster. I also love whenever Chef Ramsay says something looks like a diaper ahahahah What restaurant do you think had the most disgusting food?


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the slightly longer wait, but this chapter is almost twice as long as the previous ones. Thank you so much for all the comments on the previous chapter, and I'll be sure to reply soon. I hope everyone enjoys this chapter!
> 
> Thank you to [whatsup_buttercup](https://archiveofourown.org/users/whatsup_buttercup/pseuds/whatsup_buttercup) for the beta!

_“Word of Chef Nikiforov’s presence has spread throughout the town and locals who previously avoided Prince Charming’s are flocking back in.”_

[A shot of the restaurant shows Phichit greeting an arriving group with packed tables behind him.]

_“But after a lunch comprised of frozen food—none of which was made in-house—Chef Nikiforov enters this dinner service with low expectations.”_

[Cut to Chef Nikiforov walking into the kitchen in his chef coat. He steps up to the camera.]

Chef Nikiforov: Chad spends a lot of time talking with customers, so I’m very curious to see how he manages schmoozing and cooking at the same time.

[Chef Nikiforov looks around the kitchen, seeing only Yuuri, who is adding tickets to an already sizeable line-up.]

Chef Nikiforov: Where’s Chad?

Yuuri: He’s in the dining room.

Chef Nikiforov: With all of these orders?!

Yuuri: I already tried to get him back in, but…

Chef Nikiforov: I’ll go talk to him.

[Chef Nikiforov walks out of the kitchen, quickly finding Chad standing near a table.]

Chef Nikiforov: Good evening! So sorry to interrupt, but Chad is needed in the kitchen.

Chad: Chef Nikiforov! I was just talking with Coach about you! He was the coach of my football, hockey, _and_ baseball teams.

Coach: Now, you better not be too hard on this boy!

Chef Nikiforov: I will be telling Chad only what he needs to hear to improve.

Coach: He’ll be hosting the reunion so—

Chef Nikiforov: Very sorry, but as I said before, we need Chad in the kitchen.

[Before the coach or Chad can say anything, Chef Nikiforov guides Chad back into the kitchen. Yuuri is collecting even more tickets.]

Yuuri: Where were you? Look how many orders we have! I was about to start—

Chad: What?! _You_ were going to cook? How many times have I told you that _I’m_ the chef here!

[Yuuri’s glare clearly says “more than enough,” but he bites his tongue. Chef Nikiforov’s jaw twitches.]

Chef Nikiforov: Chad, you say you’re the chef, but all I see is a pile of backed-up orders. Why were you wandering around the dining room?

Chad: I always talk to customers during dinner. That’s why people love coming here.

Chef Nikiforov: Based on what I’ve heard, this is the busiest you’ve been in months.

[Chad seems caught off guard.]

Chad: It-it’s what I do.

Chef Nikiforov: If you want to give your ego a boost, then by all means go back out there. Yuuri will handle the kitchen.

Chad: No way! I do the cooking around here.

Chef Nikiforov: Then do it!

[Chad huffs and finally looks at the orders.]

Chad: Woah! There’s a ton here!

[Chad turns to Yuuri, an angry look on his face.]

Chad: Why didn’t you tell me?!

Yuuri: I tried to, but you ignored me!

[Cut to a flashback-style shot of earlier in the evening. Yuuri hovers behind Chad as he talks to a table. Yuuri steps in as Chad starts to make his way to the next one.]

Yuuri: Chad, there’s—

Chad: Yuuri, whatever you have to say can wait until I’m finished talking with these lovely people!

[Chad stops in from of a new table and gives gives a huge smile. The customers hesitantly smile back, looking confused.]

Yuuri: But there are orders and—

Chad: (harshly whispering) Just go back to the kitchen!

[Yuuri looks upset, but composes himself and complies. Phichit can be seen in the background giving Chad a deathglare. The shot cuts back to the current moment in the kitchen, where Chad is still mumbling about not being told there were so many orders. Chef Nikiforov looks distinctly unimpressed.]

Chef Nikiforov: Chad, this is the second time you’ve tried to blame your staff for your own incompetence. I’m sure you’re familiar with baseball’s three strike rule? Just keep that in mind.

Chad: But I _always_ talk to customers and can still make their food!

Chef Nikiforov: There are more than two tables here for dinner. I know you’re not used to it, but you have a full house! And right now none of them are even close to getting their food. This is not the time for arguing!

[Chad finally grabs an order and begins.]

_“It’s more than thirty minutes into dinner service and the kitchen is only just getting started.”_

[Several shots show Chad getting things from the freezer and putting them directly into the microwave.]

_“But it doesn’t seem like much cooking is being done.”_

[Chef Nikiforov approaches Yuuri, who is standing off to the side, just watching.]

Chef Nikiforov: Is this really how things are every night?

Yuuri: Yes. Sometimes I’m happy I’m not allowed to do anything because I would hate serving food like this.

Chef Nikiforov: You mentioned not cooking before, but “not allowed” is an interesting word choice. Could you explain what you mean by that?

Yuuri: Um, well…let me show you.

[Yuuri steps forward.]

Yuuri: What soups are up next? I can—

Chad: No! I got this!

Yuuri: Are you sure?

Chad: YES! How many times do I have to ******* tell you?! Stay out my way!

[Yuuri looks back at Chef Nikiforov and shrugs. There’s a deep furrow between Chef Nikiforov’s brows.]

Chef Nikiforov: Chad, if this is how you talk to your employees while I’m here, then I don’t want to imagine what it’s like when I’m not.

[Chad ignores that comment and keeps on preparing orders.]

_“The servers are quick to bring orders out to the dining room—and back in.”_

Phichit: Table five got their food and wanted to complain that it was cold.

Chad: It was in the microwave for long enough. What do you want me to do?

_“There’s other complaints as well.”_

Leanne: Table three says they’ve been waiting for almost an hour.

Chad: I can only put so many things in the microwave at once!

[As dinner service continues, Chad becomes sloppier. Already questionable presentations suffer and spills become more frequent. While Chad’s back is turned, Yuuri tries to wipe away some of the mess. One time, he’s not quick enough.]

Chad: Yuuri! This is exactly what I was talking about! Get the **** out of my way.

[Chad throws the plate he’s holding to the floor, shattering it. Everyone else in the kitchen flinches. Yuuri stares at the shards of glass with wide eyes. Irate, Chef Nikiforov steps up to Chad, putting himself between him and Yuuri.]

Chef Nikiforov: That’s enough. Get out.

Chad: What?!

Chef Nikiforov: Get out of this kitchen until you can learn to control yourself.

Chad: I _am_ in control.

Chef Nikiforov: People who are in control don’t smash plates or verbally assault their employees. Get the **** out of the kitchen.

[Chad storms out, slamming the outside door behind him. Chef Nikiforov turns to Yuuri, who is clearly shaken.]

Chef Nikiforov: Are you okay?

Yuuri: Y-yeah. I’m fine. He, uh, he’s never done something like _that_ before.

[Phichit, oblivious to what just happened, comes in with a tray of full plates.]

Phichit: Table fourteen sent this ba—is everything okay?

[Phichit takes in the broken plate, Chad’s absence, and Yuuri’s pale complexion for a few seconds. He slides the tray onto a counter and rushes over to Yuuri.]

Phichit: What happened? Are you okay?

[The camera cuts to Chef Nikiforov walking away from the pair, heading deeper into the kitchen.]

Chef Nikiforov: It seems Phichit has that situation under control. In the meantime, let’s take a look at the walk-in.

[The camera follows Chef Nikiforov inside. The shelves are stacked with boxes.]

Chef Nikiforov: What’s all this?

[Chef Nikiforov pulls a box out and opens it. Inside are individually packaged frozen meals. He grabs another box with a label saying it’s French onion soup and opens it to find the same.]

Chef Nikiforov: The soup I had at lunch, undoubtedly. Is that what all these boxes are?

[Quick cuts show Chef Nikiforov opening box after box and dumping out the contents until he’s surrounded by frozen packages.]

Chef Nikiforov: I’ve never seen anything like this. You can buy all this in the freezer section of a grocery store!

[Chef Nikiforov leaves the walk-in and returns to the kitchen. Chad is back, putting something else in the microwave. Yuuri stands off to the side, keeping his distance.]

Chef Nikiforov: Calmed down now, are we?

[Chad nods.]

Chef Nikiforov: Good. Show me what other freezers you have besides the walk-in.

Chad: We have these chests and that one over there…

[Chef Nikiforov walks over and opens a chest. More boxes are inside.]

Chad: What are you doing?

Chef Nikiforov: Is this all you have? Frozen food from a grocery store?

Chad: Someone delivers it here. I don’t know where it comes from.

Chef Nikiforov: You don’t know where it comes from?!

[Chef Nikiforov brings his hand up to his forehead.]

Chef Nikiforov: There’s nothing fresh in sight! Does any cooking even happen in this kitchen?

[Chad draws himself up self-righteously.]

Chad: _I_ cook in here every day and I don’t like what you’re implying.

Chef Nikiforov: You’re being serious, aren’t you?

Chad: Of course!

[Chef Nikiforov steps right up to Chad, getting into his face.]

Chef Nikiforov: You should be ashamed to serve food like this. You have no right to call yourself a chef.

[Chad gapes, not knowing what to say.]

Chef Nikiforov: I refuse to allow you to serve this any longer.

[Chef Nikiforov grabs a box and strides out of the kitchen, entering the dining room.]

Chef Nikiforov: Excuse me, everyone. I’m so sorry to interrupt, but I’m going to tell you what the chef and owner won’t.

[Chef Nikiforov tips the box upside down. Frozen packages fall to the floor, bouncing and rolling.]

Chef Nikiforov: This is what you’ve been eating tonight. Frozen food.

[There are shocked murmurs across the restaurant.]

Chef Nikiforov: When you go out to eat, is this something you expect to be served?

[The camera pans over diners shaking their heads and whispering to each other.]

Chef Nikiforov: You deserve better than food from the frozen aisle at a grocery store.

[Chef Nikiforov throws the box down to punctuate his statement.]

* * *

Phichit is _living_. This is more than he ever could have hoped for! At first, he was disappointed Victor would be in the kitchen all night and he wouldn’t get the chance to see much himself, but now he has a front row seat!

Victor is going around and asking customers if they have any shopping that they need done because they can just go browse the kitchen if they would like. Pure. Gold.

And Chad is just standing in the kitchen doorway, bright red. Phichit can’t tell if it’s from anger or embarrassment, but either way it’s glorious. Yuuri is lurking behind him and Phichit catches his eye. Despite the scare in the kitchen earlier, Yuuri looks overjoyed at the events currently unfolding. This is everything they wanted and more!

“Now listen here!” a loud voice booms, heard all around the restaurant.

Damn, it’s that sportball coach. He just has to ruin the fun.

Victor has reached the coach’s table, the coach standing to meet him.

“I told you not to go too hard on him! This is obviously taking things too far.”

“When people go out to a restaurant, they expect a meal that was made in-house, at the very least,” Victor says calmly, not at all fazed. “I’m simply pointing out the facts.”

The coach huffs. “Well, here’s a fact: Chad was the best sports star Grosse Point High School ever had. A true all-American!”

“Sorry, I’m Russian.”

Phicht has to cover his face with the menus he’s holding. A manic smile isn’t the best look for the cameras. He’s not alone in his delight, however, as most of the restaurant breaks out into titters. He even hears Leanne’s snort-laugh.

Phichit doesn’t care what ends up making it into the show; he got to _witness_ this happening in real time.

Victor turns away from the coach and addresses Chad. “Shut it down!”

Chad finally reacts. “What?! Why?”

“Because I don’t think I can call this place a restaurant. You’re not making your own food. I can’t allow you to keep serving and charging customers for this. Shut it down!”

If Phichit died right then, he would be completely happy and at peace with that. _Kitchen Nightmares_ was _amazing_.

* * *

“Okay, you keep being good, Makka.”

_woof_

“Eat all your dinner.”

_panting_

“Not that I have to worry about that.”

_whine_

“I know. I’ll be home soon. I love you with all my heart! Bye, Makka!”

Tail wagging, Makkachin noses at the camera. The dog sitter leans into the frame and waves goodbye. As Victor ends the call, the smile slides off his face. He tosses the phone across the bed, flopping back to stare up at the ceiling. He misses his dog. At least he’s found a sitter who is willing to indulge his long-distance antics.

Now that he’s done talking to the one true joy left in his life, there’s nothing for him to do. He can only lie alone in his hotel room. A drink sounds so good, but Victor knows that he would get carried away once he started. That would just be irresponsible and unprofessional with long filming hours ahead; they don’t get extra time to film two-parter episodes, but they still need twice as much footage.

With a sigh, Victor rolls off the bed to his feet. Sleep will not be coming anytime soon. When at home, he usually goes for a walk with Makkachin, but there’s no reason he can’t still go on a walk without his dog.

Wallet, phone, keycard…after making sure he has everything, Victor leaves his room and heads for the stairs instead of the elevator. As he steps out of the side door and starts down the sidewalk, he takes a deep breath of the crisp, summer night air. All things considered, this town is quite lovely. There are nice parks and docks along the lake. It just seems to be lacking in good restaurants…

Of course his thoughts wander to the events at the “restaurant”—he meant it when he said it can’t be called that! He’s seen some awful practices over the years, but this was a first for serving _only_ frozen, pre-made meals. Plenty of restaurants used frozen ingredients, but at least they did some actual cooking!

The closest he can come to giving this place a compliment is that none of the food is actively rotting, though that’s because it’s _frozen_. It isn’t expired either, but given that Chad doesn’t even know where it comes from, Victor bets that can’t even be attributed to him. That honor, undoubtedly, goes to Yuuri.

Oh, Yuuri…

Chad shows a complete lack of respect toward everyone on the staff, but Yuuri bears the brunt of it. That’s likely because they happen to spend the most time together, working in the kitchen, though Victor suspects there’s something else, too: jealousy. Victor probably didn’t help when he made it clear he didn’t consider Chad a real chef and implied that Yuuri is more qualified. Someone on an ego trip like Chad was wouldn’t take that well. Victor will have to be careful in executing his plan, which involves getting Chad as far away from the food as possible and putting Yuuri in charge of the kitchen.

Also concerning is how Yuuri seems to just…take it. From the audition video, Victor gleaned that Yuuri is very prideful. He doesn’t like not being able to cook or being told he doesn’t know how, yet he still puts up with Chad. To Victor, that means this has been going on for quite some time, long enough that Yuuri doesn’t bother fighting against it anymore. At least his spirit isn’t completely broken; Victor just needs to give him that extra _push_.

Wait…where is he? Victor was so absorbed in his thoughts that he didn’t pay attention to where he was walking! He’s not expecting to recognize any landmarks, not in the dark after being here for a single day, but—ironically enough—he finds himself standing just outside Prince Charming’s. Those horrible columns and turrets are hard to mistake.

With a rueful smile, Victor picks up his pace to make it past the monstrosity of a building. Then something flashes out of the corner of his eye. Glancing over, he sees that the kitchen lights are on. There’s no way it’s Chad, but who else would have access to the restaurant? Curious, Victor goes to the side entrance. The door is propped open, the smell of harsh cleaning chemicals wafting out.

“Hello?” he calls into the kitchen.

There’s a muffled shriek and Yuuri pops up from behind a counter. He’s wearing a face mask and rubber gloves that go up to his elbows.

“Victor?! W-what are you doing here?”

“Sorry for startling you!” Victor steps inside. Looking around, it seems like the back half of the kitchen has recently been scrubbed. “I was just out taking a walk. I should be asking _you_ that question.”

“I’m cleaning.” Yuuri relaxes a bit, the initial shock fading. He strips off the gloves and pulls down the mask so it’s bunched under his chin. It’s far cuter than it has any right to be. “Chad doesn’t really let me do anything during the day, so I have to do it now.”

“I remember you said that in the audition video.”

Yuuri’s face colors. “I can’t believe you still remember that…”

A ghost of that previous irritation returns. “How am I supposed to help a restaurant if I don’t know what the problems are?”

“I-I meant remember something _I_ said,” Yuuri says quickly. With a small smile, he adds, “Besides, I thought you said this place wasn’t a restaurant.”

Victor doesn’t want to just glaze over Yuuri’s dismissal of his own importance, but he recognizes a subject change when he hears one. He’ll go along with it, if only because he has six more days to convince Yuuri he’s worth remembering. “ _Touché_.”

“Actually, it’s pronounced ‘toe-chay.’”

Yuuri manages to keep a stoic look on his face for all of two seconds before it contorts with the strain of keeping his laughter in. Victor, on the other hand, started laughing the moment Yuuri said “actually,” anticipating a dig at Chad’s less-than-accurate pronunciation.

“Chad is quite the peace of work,” Victor says. “I knew this would be a challenge, but experiencing it in-person is something else.”

“I feel like I’ve been here so long I hardly even notice it.” Yuuri sighs and pulls his mask back on, reaching for the gloves. “You’re welcome to stay, but I really need to finish this.”

Victor nods absently as he looks around. There doesn’t appear to be anyone else here. When Yuuri said he has to clean, he really meant _only_ him. “Do you have an extra pair of gloves?”

“What?” Yuuri asks, surprised.

“Well I can’t just stand around and watch you do this yourself. And I’m certainly not going to leave you alone either.”

Yuuri’s mouth is covered by the mask, but Victor can still see his smile in the crinkling and sparkle of his eyes.

“Thank you.”

They dig through the cleaning supplies, finding a packet of gloves. Victor dons a pair and, following Yuuri’s direction, grabs sponge to start scrubbing the countertops.

“So, why exactly doesn’t Chad let you clean during the day?” he asks to fill the empty air.

Yuuri sighs heavily. “I really have no idea. He usually says something about getting in the way or wasting time. I think he doesn’t like someone acting of their own accord, as opposed to his orders.”

Victor hums in thought. That’s certainly an interesting theory. It’s a wonder that Chad could do all those team-based sports with an attitude like that.

“The kitchen needs to be clean,” Yuuri continues. “Even if no real cooking is being done, food shouldn’t be prepared in a disgusting environment.”

“So you felt your only option was to clean while Chad wasn’t here?”

“Yeah. It just needed to be done behind Chad’s back.” Yuuri pauses. “That sounds awful as an employee! I’m so sorry!”

Victor laughs. He understands where Yuuri is coming from and can’t exactly blame him for taking initiative. “Just because someone is the boss doesn’t mean they know what they’re doing. There’s nothing wrong with taking things into your own hands, especially to ensure safety and quality. I would even expect my own employees to call me out on those matters.”

Yuuri gives him a small smile. The continue to make small talk as they work, Victor talking about having his own restaurant and Yuuri about his time spent in culinary school. Victor often has to prompt him for more details and Yuuri seems embarrassed by his interest, but Victor hopes it gave him a little more confidence.

With the both of them working and their steady conversation filling the air, it doesn’t take much longer to finish cleaning the kitchen.

Victor looks over it proudly. It’s been a while since he got down and dirty like this in the kitchen. Every executive chef should do it; it’s humbling. Just because one is in charge of cooking doesn’t mean they’re exempt from cleaning.

Now that Victor thinks about it, it’s been a while since he even did any cooking in one of his own restaurants. He spends so much time traveling for this show. He misses being in the kitchen. Once he gets back to St. Petersburg, he’ll set aside time to stop by Stammi Vicino. The only problem was…

Okay, what he told Chad about working with sous chefs earlier was absolutely true! Sous chefs are a necessary part of the kitchen. Of course he has them in his own restaurants and has worked with them before—the problem is that he’s never worked with them very _well_. He just has very high standards and it was difficult to find someone who could keep up. The sous chefs he worked with either didn’t listen or failed to meet his standards. Things never quite worked out.

Yet simply cleaning the kitchen with Yuuri reached a level of harmony he never had with any sous chef. How bad will it look if he snatches away the saving grace of the restaurant he’s trying to save?

“That’s so much easier with another person,” Yuuri says as he wipes his forehead. He looks satisfied, but doesn’t take off his mask or gloves.

“Hmm, it makes one wonder why you haven’t asked for help before…” Victor says pointedly.

Ignoring him, Yuuri grabs the bucket. “Now for the dining room.”

Victor spends a second dumbfounded at the fact that Yuuri cleans both the kitchen and dining room by himself every night. He’s definitely not about to allow Yuuri to continue. “Wait!”

Yuuri stops with his hand on the door, glancing over his shoulder curiously.

“You’ve done more than enough cleaning,” Victor says, an idea slowly forming in his mind. “This place won’t be open tomorrow. Chad can do it then.”

“Chad?! Do you really trust him to clean things properly?”

“No, but that’s fine. This place is going to get a renovation anyway. It’s more a matter of principle. Besides, I’m very interested in seeing how Chad thinks this place gets cleaned.”

Pulling off his mask, Yuuri steps closer. “You’re going to tell him it was me? I…are you sure that’s a good idea? I don’t know how he’ll react.”

Victor can understand the apprehension. Owners are usually in a very tenuous state at this point. They’re caught somewhere between resenting Victor for his criticisms and knowing they must listen to change things for the better. As a result, they can be volatile. Employees are hesitant to speak up, even if Victor asks them to, afraid it will get them fired. Well, Victor was never one to stand by and let owners take their vengeful feelings out on innocent employees.

“Don’t worry,” he says. “I’ve done things like this plenty of times before. I won’t let him do anything.”

Biting his lip, Yuuri thinks for a moment. He nods. “Okay.”

* * *

_“The next day at the restaurant, Chef Nikiforov calls the staff together for a meeting.”_

Chef Nikiforov: So…dinner service last night.

[Chef Nikiforov looks around at the assembled staff. Chad is lounging in a chair like it’s a throne. Leanne and several other high-school-age servers look apprehensive. Yuuri is sitting next to Phichit, jaw clenched and leg bouncing up and down. Phichit is watching him carefully out of the corner of his eye.]

Chef Nikiforov: Needless to say, I was not impressed. A kitchen full of frozen food being heated up by a chef with an inflated ego—who also spends half his time in the dining room!

Chad: I—

Chef Nikiforov: No. No more excuses. It’s obvious major changes are needed around here. Before we get into that, I want to say one good thing I noticed last night.

[Chad looks a bit smug, clearly expecting it to be about him.]

Chef Nikiforov: The cleanliness. Despite everything, both the dining room and the kitchen are clean, practically spotless. Chad, how often do you clean?

[Chad’s smug expression has dropped from his face.]

Chad: I don’t clean.

Chef Nikiforov: Really? Then who does?

[Chad looks around hopelessly and even the rest of the staff looks confused.]

Phichit: Wait, wait. I thought a company came in and took care of things. Chad, you always said not to worry about it!

[Other servers nod and murmur in agreement.]

Phichit: Are you telling me you didn’t hire anybody?

Chad: No. You don’t need to. My house is always clean, just like here.

[Leanne rolls her eyes.]

Leanne: That’s because you have _maids_ , dumb***! No one will come and clean if you don’t hire them!

Chad: What?

Leanne: Oh my _god_!

Phichit: Then how is it still so clean? We do some quick picking up, but nowhere near enough to meet standards…

[Phichit looks distraught as he trails off.]

Chef Nikiforov: Well, I may have solved that mystery. I was taking a walk last night and happened to go by the restaurant. When I went inside, I discovered someone cleaning. It was…

[Chef Nikiforov pauses for dramatic effect.]

Chef Nikiforov: Yuuri.

[Cut to the other members of staff’s reactions. Some servers look impressed that everything was done by one person. Chad still seems confused. Phichit, with his brows furrowed in concern, is staring at Yuuri, who is bright red and looks like he wants to sink into the floor.]

Chef Nikiforov: Do you want to talk about it?

[Yuuri is reluctant, but eventually nods.]

Yuuri: I’ve been coming in and cleaning at night for a while.

[Phichit crosses his arms.]

Phichit: And how long is ‘a while,’ Yuuri?

Yuuri: A few weeks…after we first started.

Phichit: What!? Yuuri!

[Yuuri shrugs guiltily. Phichit is agitated, but controls himself for the camera. Yuuri continues, apparently not able to stop now that he’s gotten going.]

Yuuri: Whenever I tried to just wipe things down, Chad would tell me to stop. I also thought another company handled the cleaning, until I realized how dirty things were getting. I couldn’t do anything about the food, but I could at least make sure it was being prepared and served in acceptable conditions.

Chad: Wait, so everything’s clean because you come in and clean it?

[Chef Nikiforov sighs and brings his hand up to his forehead.]

Leanne: What other way is there to clean?!

Chad: I don’t know! I’ve never done it before!

[Chef Nikiforov smiles brightly, if not a bit sadistically.]

Chef Nikiforov: Then this will be a wonderful learning opportunity! Today, Chad, you’ll be cleaning the dining room by yourself.

Chad: What? By myself!

[The servers look excitedly at each other and stifle their giggles. Phichit nods, finding this an acceptable punishment.]

Chef Nikiforov: Yes, of course. As the owner, it’s your responsibility to ensure things are properly cleaned and sanitized, whether it’s by contracting an outside service or including it in your staff’s job descriptions. Seeing as you’ve failed at that, I think the best way to make sure it gets done is to experience it for yourself. Think you can handle this?

[Chad grudgingly nods. He’s clearly not happy, but knows he must go along with it.]

Chef Nikiforov: Good! While you’re doing that, Yuuri and I are going to take a look at the kitchen. Phichit, I’m leaving you in charge. I trust you can keep Chad on task?

[A too-wide grin spreads over Phichit’s face.]

Phichit: Of course.

[Chef Nikiforov gestures for Yuuri to follow. He puts a gentle hand on his shoulder to guide him into the kitchen.]

* * *

The second after “cut!” is called, Phichit slips into the kitchen and marches right up to Yuuri. He doesn’t look nearly ashamed enough! Crossing his arms, Phichit starts tapping his foot.

“What?” Yuuri asks.

“You know very well ‘what.’ Why didn’t you tell me about this?!”

Yuuri ducks his head. “There was no point in making both of us suffer…”

Phichit throws up his hands. Stupid, self-sacrificing, hard-working— _argh_!

He takes a deep breath. He isn’t angry at Yuuri, not by any means. The anger is directed at Chad; it’s more frustration that he’s feeling toward Yuuri, at the moment. For as long as Phichit has known him, Yuuri never thought other people know he exists, much less want to support and help him. It took Phichit quite a while to break down Yuuri’s walls and consider him a friend. He thought they were way past the point of keeping secrets like this from each other.

“Yuuri, I’m your best friend,” Phichit says evenly, putting his hands on Yuuri’s shoulders. “I would be happy to do anything with you, including suffering. We’re already working here together anyway!”

Yuuri sniffles through his smile. Phichit gives him a slight shake, but then pulls him into  a hug. He knows Yuuri isn’t the biggest fan of touching like this, but tears are a good enough reason to do it. When Yuuri brings his arms up to hug him back, Phichit knows it was the right call.

“You’re not cleaning anything in the apartment for the next year— _at least_ ,” he mumbles.

“Okay.” Yuuri glances over his shoulder. “Just don’t put this in the show!”

Phichit is confused for a moment until he leans around Yuuri and sees Victor smiling. Phichit completely forgot about him!

“Of course not. This is a private moment.”

As awful as Phichit feels for not noticing this was happening despite being Yuuri’s best friend and roommate, he has to be amazed at how quickly Victor took care of things.

“Thank you for finding this out and stopping my roommate from his self-sacrificing dumbassery,” Phichit says. “I’ll let you get to cooking.”

He gives Yuuri one last squeeze before heading back to the dining room. He had a metaphorical whip to crack.

* * *

[The shot cuts from Victor and Yuuri leaving the dining room to Phichit making himself comfortable in one of the booths. He leans his back against the wall and stretches his legs out on the seat. The camera pans to Chad wrangling a vacuum.]

Phichit: (voiceover) As entertaining as it is to watch Chad struggle like this, I’m upset Yuuri did everything alone for so long. I could have helped him! He’s not so much as wiping away a speck of dust in the apartment from now on!”

Chad: How do you turn this thing on?

[Leanne rolls her eyes and plugs the cord into an outlet. The vacuum roars to life and Chad jumps away from it, shrieking. Cut to outdoor shots of the town, finally settling on a farmers’ market. The atmosphere is lively, with people are milling about the rows of stalls filled with produce, talking with sellers, and buying wares.]

_“After finding out Prince Charming’s has its very own Cinderella, Chef Nikiforov takes it upon himself to be the fairy godmother, bringing Yuuri to a local farmers’ market to buy some proper stock for the kitchen.”_

[The camera finally settles on Chef Nikiforov standing in front of a stall piled with apples.]

Chef Nikiforov: (to the camera) Farmers markets the absolute _best_ place to buy ingredients. You’re supporting other local businesses and getting food at the peak of freshness.

[Chef Nikiforov grabs two samples of apple slices, thanking seller. He steps away and hands one to Yuuri. They bite into the slices, humming in enjoyment.]

Chef Nikiforov: What do you think, Yuuri?

Yuuri: I think this is exactly what Prince Charming’s needs.

[The two set off into the market.]

* * *

After cleaning with Victor last night, walking around so casually with him now doesn’t feel that strange. Victor himself is less intimidating, as well.

He’s different from what Yuuri always pictured him to be like. He’s very hands-on with the changes he wants to make, going so far as to take Yuuri to the farmers’ market as he plans the menu. Of course Victor’s TV personality isn’t how he really is, but Yuuri didn’t realize quite how different it can be. Victor is more relaxed off-camera, as they are now, yet there’s another layer to it. Even this isn’t Victor, the _true_ Victor. Yuuri wants to see that.

“Those apples we tried will be perfect in a tart for dessert, along with a _proper_ _crème brûlée_ ,” Victor says, jotting things down in a little notebook. “There’s plenty of produce to choose from for some main dishes. How amazing would a ratatouille be?!”

Yuuri nods eagerly. Victor’s ideas are inspiring and they’re making him excited to be in the kitchen for the first time in a _long_ while. He keeps quiet, though; Victor seems to be on a roll.

“Chicken and beef are rather standard, so I would love something that really stands out. I want something with duck on this new menu! That’s definitely not something found in the other restaurants around here.”

Yuuri’s mouth waters at the mention of duck. That would be amazing! He loves working with duck and having it on the menu will entice people to try eating at the restaurant again.

“But, most importantly, we need a signature dish. Something that will really bring people back. Chad’s attitude has really soured relations with the locals. If we give them a dish made with local ingredients, I think it will be a step towards fixing things.” Victor stops and turns to Yuuri. “So, what do you have in mind?”

Yuuri stops as well, though out of shock. “Me?”

“Yes, _you_. It will be your dish after all.”

“What?!”

“It only makes sense. You’ll be the one cooking it.”

No, it doesn’t make sense for _Yuuri_ to do it! He may be qualified in the technical sense, but this isn’t just fooling around in the kitchen with Phichit. This is Chef Nikiforov asking him to design a dish worthy enough to not just compliment the rest of his menu, but to _lead_ it…

“Yuuri,” Victor says, stepping closer. He raises his hand, as if reaching for Yuuri’s face, but it lands on his shoulder after a second of hesitation. “I want to taste your cooking. Make me something delicious.”

Yuuri can feel his face heating at Victor’s proximity. How can he refuse now? Victor seems to believe in him—no! Victor _does_ believe in him. Thinking he can’t do it just means he doubts Victor’s confidence in his abilities.

“Okay.” Yuuri nods in determination. “I’ll make you something delicious, so please try it!”

Before he can second-guess himself, Yuuri spins away and speed-walks deeper into the farmers’ market. He can’t believe he said something like that! At least the cameras weren’t running this time…

Slowing down, he takes in all the stalls and their wares. He doesn’t know what to make yet, but he wants it to be something for Victor—not Chef Nikiforov.

* * *

Yuuri is still nervous as Victor lifts a forkful to his mouth. The iron grip on his heart loosens as Victor takes another, and another. Mouth full of food and eyes full of glee, Victor simply nods at him. Yuuri smiles back.

* * *

_“A few hours and a successful shopping spree later, Chef Nikiforov is ready to check on Chad’s progress.”_

[Chef Nikiforov enters the dining room. Chad is packing up the cleaning supplies as Phichit examines his work.]

Chef Nikiforov: How are we doing in here? All finished?

Phichit: It passes my inspection.

Chad: I had no idea cleaning takes this long!

Chef Nikiforov: It certainly looks nice. You really did work hard, so you deserve a break. Let’s have a little snack.

[Yuuri and two other servers come out the kitchen, carrying two plates each.]

Chef Nikiforov: As you can see, there are two of each dish. One is straight from cans and the freezer—like you’ve been serving at the restaurant. The other is made with fresh ingredients from a local farmers’ market.

[The plates are set down on tables, the matching dishes side-by-side. The camera pans over the line-up: a cheese platter, roast duck with potatoes and a sauce, and an apple tart. The dishes on the left are noticeably more bland, lacking vibrant colors and texture. Even the professional presentation can’t save them.]

Chef Nikiforov: (from off camera) I think it’s obvious which is which.

[Cut to Chad’s face, contorted into a confused expression.]

Chad: Why are they so different?

Chef Nikiforov: It’s a simple matter of fresh versus frozen. Let’s start with the appetizer, a simple cheese platter It’s a classic staple of French cuisine.

[Chef Nikiforov points to the one on the left.]

Chef Nikiforov: This one includes the cheeses used in the platter you served yesterday. When you compare it to the other one, there’s no contest!

[Chef Nikiforov picks up a piece of rubbery cheese from the left, comparing it to a slab of sliced cheddar on the right. Everyone tries some with the included toasted baguette rounds and crackers.]

Chef Nikiforov: Wow! Just delicious!

Chad: This is amazing!

Chef Nikiforov: Next is the main dish, roast duck breast with potatoes cooked in the fat. On the side is a delectable sauce, the flavor of which will change based on what’s in season. Right now, it’s cherry-based, a lovely compliment to the richness of the duck.

[Cut to a comparison shot of the frozen-and-canned made dish and the fresh one.]

Chef Nikiforov: Without using fresh ingredients, there’s no fat to use with the potatoes, which really cuts down on their flavor. The duck ends up dry and the sauce is overpowering. Just look at how vibrant this one is!

[Chad tries the potatoes from each dish. His eyes widen after trying the duck-fat ones.]

Chad: This one is so much better!

Chef Nikiforov: The power of fresh ingredients!

[The fresh plate is quickly devoured and no one even bothers with the other.]

Chef Nikiforov: And finally we have dessert, a wonderful apple tart. Again, such a difference in appearance.

[Chef Nikiforov cuts both tarts in half, showing the insides.]

Chef Nikiforov: This one is all mush, but look here! You can see the slices of apple with that nice sprinkling of cinnamon.

[Everyone takes a spoonful of the tart and satisfied noises are heard all around.]

Chef Nikiforov: This is just a small sample of the menu to come. The focus is local and fresh. You can’t go wrong.

Chad: Okay, I have to admit this is all amazing. I should have known a chef like you could come up with things like this.

Chef Nikiforov: Well…I didn’t.

Chad: What?

[Chef Nikiforov motions and Yuuri steps forward.]

Chef Nikiforov: Yuuri did.

[Chad, jaw-dropped, is too shocked to say anything.]

Chef Nikiforov: While the cheese platter and apple tart are rather standard, Yuuri designed and cooked the duck and potatoes himself. This will be our signature dish, the headliner for our concept of—

Chad: But he’s just a sous chef!

[Chef Nikiforov does not look happy at being interrupted.]

Chef Nikiforov: Pardon?

Chad: He’s just a sous chef? How can he do this?

Chef Nikiforov: You may have _hired_ him as a sous chef, but Yuuri is more than qualified to run the kitchen himself. Chad, you have someone with _real_ talent in the kitchen. Use it!

[Chad face turns red.]

Chad: Exactly what the **** are you implying? I can cook any of this no problem!

Yuuri: (mumbling) No, you can’t.

Chad: What the **** did you just say?

Chef Nikiforov: I think you heard him and I have to say I agree. From what I’ve seen, the dishes on the left are more your style and you’ve admitted they’re not as good.

[Just like previous heated exchanges, Chef Nikiforov remains calm as Chad works himself up.]

Chad: I can ******* do it! If I’m not cooking, what’s the ******* point of even being in the restaurant?!

[Chad spins around and starts heading for the door. Several crew members with equipment are in the way.]

Chad: MOVE!

[Chad roughly pushes them aside and they scramble to protect the equipment. He storms out of the restaurant, swearing and shouting. Cut to show the staff’s reactions. While Phichit is suppressing a smile, most of the servers are startled by the outburst. Yuuri, at whom Chad’s anger was directed, is the most shaken. Chef Nikiforov pats him reassuringly on the shoulder. Cut back to the door closing behind Chad and then smash cut to a black screen. “TO BE CONTINUED” fades in.]

* * *

 _“Next time on_ Kitchen Nightmares _…”_

[Cut from the logo to the door closing behind Chad.]

_“Chef Nikiforov has to entice Chad back into the restaurant.”_

[Cut to Chef Nikiforov in the kitchen, Chad and Yuuri standing before him.]

Chef Nikiforov: Let’s have a little competition.

[Cut to rapid shots of Chad and Yuuri doing various tasks in the kitchen, clearly against each other. They’re peeling, chopping, sautéing, plating, and more.]

_“Chad and Yuuri have a final showdown, with the title of head chef on the line. Plus the new renovation—”_

[Cut to the entire staff giving surprised and overjoyed reactions to something the camera doesn’t show.]

_“—and the grand reopening. Tensions run high.”_

[Cut to Chad shouting.]

Chad: It’s _my_ restaurant! Stop telling me what to do!

_“Emotions hit hard.”_

[Cut to Yuuri looking overwhelmed as tears bead in his eyes.]

_“Will this restaurant be able to make it?”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There are chefs who think they can get away with the most ridiculous things. I'm from Boston and _Kitchen Nightmares_ had at least two restaurants in the North End (basically Little Italy) where they were serving frozen stuff. The ground floor of every building in the North End is packed with family-owned, traditional restaurants. Do these places really think they can compete with homemade pasta?? What do you think is the worst thing a restaurant tried to get away with?


End file.
